


Happy Hogmanay.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [42]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Deep love, F/M, Feelings, Hogmanay, House Party, Marriage, New Years Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm has big plans for New Years Eve.....unfortunately so has Sam.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Hogmanay.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really great Prompt from Petersgal  
> " Its New Year Eve and sam want to have a huge party with all the people they love,but malcolm is not too keen,but why? Ill leave that with you "
> 
> A word or two about traditional Hogmanay.......Black Bun. It is a moist fruit cake completely covered in pastry, traditionally served at Hogmanay or sometimes Twelfth Night. First Footing is an ancient Scots Hogmanay tradition, and is the first person to cross the threshold of a home on New Years Day, as a bringer of good luck and good fortune. Traditionally the first footer is preferred to be a tall dark male, and a first footer usually brought a gift, of a bag of coins, bread or salt, or coal and a tot of whiskey. 
> 
> I like to have a little of the domesticity in the 'Malcolm with a family' AU's, as I think his home life would be the time he enjoys most.  
> I also really wanted to get across the depth of Malcolm's attachment to Sam in this story. It's almost like he sees her for the first time, or at least realises how much she means to him. It has proved very difficult and I'm still not entirely sure I've achieved my aim!

HAPPY HOGMANAY.

Malcolm closed down his lap top, and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin.  
This was going to be good. He was actually excited.  
Earlier he'd had a long and involved conversation with his sister. Finalising arrangements, sorting out times and dates.  
Feet up on the desk, he felt inordinately pleased with himself.  
Flights booked. Accommodation sorted. Perfect.  
Nancy told him it'd been snowing too, the kids would be beside themselves. 

oOo

Not long afterwards he heard her key in the door. Little piping voices, a hum of chatter and laughter.  
"MALCOLM! You in?" Her voice echoed down the hallway.  
"Aye! I'm here! Kettle's just boiled!" He called, leaving his study to greet his little brood.  
A kiss and a cuddle for both his boys, Grace hugging him around his knees, her little head pressed against his thighs.  
"Daddy my tooth fell out! It was bleeding!" His eldest son bounced up and down, opening his mouth into a wide O, showing a large gap right at the front. "It was wobbly all morning, then it just came out in my hand!"  
Reaching into his blazer pocket Jamie bought out a wodge of tissue, carefully unwrapping it and producing the evidence, a  
tiny incisor. "Look Daddy, teacher says I should put it under my pillow and the tooth fairy will take it and leave me money!"  
Malcolm and his wife exchanged and amused glance.  
"Come on you three, shoes off. Jamie! Homework! Robbie, Grace, go and play, and I'll call you when tea's ready. Come and get a drink if you want one." Sam shooed them ahead of her as she headed towards the kitchen. 

oOo

Sipping tea, sitting opposite each other at the kitchen counter.  
Malcolm chanced a glance or three at his wife over the rim of his cup.  
The lurch that washed down to his groin was undeniable, but it was so much more than that, it was a plunge of esteem, of worship, and it was profound.  
Her hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail. Only light makeup, she never wore much in the way of cosmetics unless they were going out somewhere special.  
He wasn't one for heavy face paint, to him her skin was so lovely, it didn't require much enhancement.  
Little diamond studs in her ears, which caught the light, slight freckles over her nose and across her cheeks. Those big brown expressive and intelligent eyes, the way they danced and shone so brightly. Long lashes which brushed her face when she glanced down. Her eyebrows neatly plucked and shaped. A big wide smile, which captivated him completely. Making his heart race when she chanced to look his way. The firm set of her jawline, her cute pointed chin, the way her hair brushed her neck and shoulders, radiant chestnut, with natural highlights, little stray tresses at the nape of her neck.  
Whenever he was close to her, he never tired of the silky feel of that hair as it tickled his face, his nose buried deep against it. There was a scent to it that drove him almost to distraction, he wasn't even sure what it was. Perfume? Shampoo? Or was it just the smell that was essentially her?  
Who could say.  
Perfection.  
In his eyes anyway, she was utter perfection. 

"Malcolm are you listening to me?"  
Shit! How long had she been speaking? He wasn't sure. Blinking a couple of times, a hand mussing through the curls he'd allowed to grow atop his own head. He regarded her apologetically.  
"Sorry?"  
She smiled at him fondly.  
"What were you thinking about? You were miles away!"  
"Nothing! What were you saying? I switched off." He took another sip of tea to recover himself.  
"I was talking about New Year! Inviting everyone over, having a bit of a party! What do you say? I thought it would be fun!" 

Malcolm's thought processes crashed. Fuck!  
He looked at her expectant face, eager and hopeful. He thought of all his plans. 

Bollocks!  
How was he going to wheedle his way out of this one? 

The flights were arranged. The hotel. His sister, her husband, his nephew and niece, were all in on it. Jamie McDonald, Ellie and little Jess were travelling up too.......everyone together.....a big Hogmanay street party. Glasgow style.  
In the City Centre there would be massed marching pipe bands, fireworks, dancing.  
Then back home Nancy would throw open the doors, after midnight they'd go 'first footing' as they had when they were kids. First footers would be offered Black Bun and a tot of whiskey. The neighbours would gather, for an all night shindig, probably till dawn, with a ceilidh traditional band, the whole works, most important day of the year in Scotland.  
Then steak pie on New Years Day, as the party continued. In Scotland the 2nd January was a public holiday too......and they damn well needed it!!  
He so wanted to share this with Sam, and he wanted to keep it as a surprise, at least until nearer the time. 

Looking up at her now, he shrugged, noncommittally. Struggling to think of a reply quickly.  
Too late! She was already rattled by his silence.  
"You're not keen." She sounded desperately disappointed. "I can tell by your face."  
He tried to rally.  
"No! It's not that, it's just......" He stammered.  
"Don't worry Malcolm." She interjected, crestfallen. "It doesn't matter. It was just a thought."  
She hopped down from the kitchen stool disconsolately and went to the bottom of the stairs.  
"KIDS! There's a drink here if you want one!" A patter of little feet answered her. 

oOo

Dinner time at the Tucker house was family time.  
Everyone up at the table. Eating together. There was no tech allowed, no phones, no TV, no media at all.  
Just mum and dad, and the children, chatting, telling each other about their day. Discussing extremely important topics, like the horrible ham in today's lunchtime sandwich, new shoes that rubbed a blister, the merits of Toy Story over Frozen and whether Mog actually died and went to Cat Heaven.  
Finger on the pulse of the nation stuff. Everyone gave their tuppence worth.  
Except that Sam was quiet, downcast and subdued. Hardly joining in.  
It ripped at Malcolm's heart strings. 

oOo

Much later that evening after the kids were bathed and tucked up in bed, story read, sleeping peacefully, husband and wife were together on the sofa, Malcolm lifted an arm, a silent invitation for Sam to tuck herself into his side.  
There was a slight reluctance, just for a moment, an unspoken feeling of despondency, an air of deflation in her mien.  
Malcolm caved.  
"Sam, about New Year......"  
She huffed, her reply purposefully detached.  
"It's okay, Malcolm, if you don't want a party that's fine. I just thought it would be nice that's all, we don't often do anything and I thought it would make a change.......it's not like I........."  
"Hush a moment! We can't have a party," he interrupted, "because I've already made plans!"  
Raising her head from where it lay against his chest, she looked at him askance.  
"Plans? What plans?" She queried, brows furrowed in confusion.  
"Just plans!" He sighed his frustration.  
"Oh Malcolm! What have you done? You haven't planned a party already have you? And I've buggered up the surprise? Oh bless you.....I'm so, so sorry!"  
Her husband's face registered the sort of look a child might give, when he first learns that Father Christmas isn't real.  
Disappointment, shattered belief, resignation.  
"No." He replied quietly, " I've planned something else. It was going to be a surprise."  
Sam reached out and touched his face, her expression one of remorse, visibly upset.  
"Oh, darling! And I've spoilt it! Me and my bright ideas! I'm really sorry.....I'm such an idiot! Please forgive me."  
Malcolm gave an elaborate and dismissive hand gesture.  
"I don't think I can." He groaned sadly, but with a wicked gleam in his eye. "You might have to be very, very nice to me, to make it up to me.....seeing how I'm now completely distraught."  
He feigned a sniff and wiped his eye.  
It earned him a thump on the top of his arm.  
"You bugger! Making me feel bad! How was I to know? I'll make it up to you, don't you worry mister......now get your bony arse upstairs and get your kit off!" 

oOo

Crisp. Sharp and bitterly cold.  
The skirl of the pipes, accompanied by the staccato beat of dozens of tight skinned drums, all in perfect accord, amid an explosion of swirls from multi-coloured tartans, as the bands marched passed. Lead by the majestic figure of a magnificently attired Drum Major, swinging a heavy silver ended mace around his head and into the air, catching it expertly as it fell, before launching it skyward again.  
Sporrans swaying with each step, rosy cheeks puffed out, their fingers flying on the chanter with practised ease, the vibration of the drone, reverberating the eardrums as the pipers swept by.  
Jamie and Robbie jigging up and down, beyond excited.  
Little Grace ecstatic, clinging tight to her father's neck as the dancing men and women reeled along, their arms aloft, kilts flying. Malcolm's toes tapping to the infectious rhythm.  
Sam holding onto her husband's arm, her own linked through his at the elbow. 

Oooo's and Ahhhhh's as the fireworks lit up the velvet night sky.  
Deafening roars, whizzes and whines, as another burst of vivid colour shot across the roof tops.  
Everyone happy, euphoric even, caught up in the outburst of sentiment that the prospect of a New Year, a new beginning, a brand new dawn can bring.  
Sparkling and fizzing, each fresh volley illuminated the faces of the enraptured crowd, pouring down on them like golden rain. A million glittering jewels, and a waft of cordite.  
Grace's tiny mittened hand, pointing, her cherubic face straining upwards, flushed with the frosty air, her cloud of fair hair peeping out from under a woolly bobble hat.  
"Daddy! Daddy! It's just like magic!" She cried, right into his ear, over the din.  
"Look! Uncle Jamie is dancing!!" Little Jamie shrieked with laughter, as his namesake began to dance a jig. Hopping from one foot to the other, arms above his head......well oiled with single malt!

Back to his sister's house for the street party, the tradition of 'first footing'......a thing Sam had never ever experienced. Every house they visited so welcoming, so friendly.  
In a ring they stood as the midnight chimes were heard.  
Arms crossed in front, swinging up and down, a chorus of Auld Lang Syne. Over and over they sang it. Their voices rising and falling as one, eyes glistening, lungs bursting, their hearts full. 

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Sam turned to focus on Malcolm's face, as the last chorus died away. 

"This is wonderful. Thank you so much." She breathed, her eyes were shining, swimming with tears, her emotions raw, fuelled by the inexorable power of the moment and scotch whiskey.  
In the midst of the throng, she threaded her arms around her husband, her cold hands underneath his jacket.  
Pulling him into her body. A white heat hit her core.  
His own eyes were burning.  
Aflame with the magnitude of his love, it's depth, his own barely concealed desire.  
Bringing his head down, their lips crashed together, a thorough and sensual exploration, kissing like first time lovers, as if the enormity of what he was feeling suddenly hit him.  
A sledge hammer to the senses.  
Filled with a need which bordered on desperation, sinking into each other hungrily, as though they might actually melt or perhaps be torn apart at any moment.  
All about them the crowd jostled, danced, embraced and sang, but neither of them noticed.  
Eyes closed. Shutting out everything but their own living fire.  
Oblivious to all; their neighbours, friends, family, even their own children......(who stared, wide eyed at their parents)........everyone fading into a mist of obscurity.  
Sounds around them seemed to die away, music muffled, laughter muted, movement stilled. Time stopped. A fragile bubble of perfect love.  
Together they burned. A roaring, crackling inferno, consuming them both, raging unchecked.  
His mouth left hers, moving down her neck, making her gasp and throw back her head, as he nipped and sucked the soft flesh at her throat. Murmuring her name, incantations of his love, moaning as he fought to control himself. A fight he had no will to win. It had to come out, he was a powder keg, the fuse short. 

He didn't care. 

Everyone watching, but they were a blur to him, they didn't matter. Let them see, allow them to witness this display of what it was like to be truly in love.  
His hands coming up to cup her cheeks, as he pecked slowly and deliberately upwards again; pulse point, earlobe, chin, then renewing his assault. Lips locked, they worked together, a war of attrition, little mewling sounds coming from her, that none but he could hear over the hubbub in the room.  
The only word she could whisper, so softly, spoken into his mouth as it covered hers.  
"Malcolm!"  
Pressed so close together, a fag paper couldn't fit between them.  
He was weeping. Although he hardly knew it. Tears of adoration, attesting to his utter devotion. Clinging to his wife as though he were a lost soul at sea, adrift with no life jacket.  
"Sam! I'll always love you, have you even the smallest idea of what you mean to me?" His brogue thicker, rougher than she'd ever heard it, deep and guttural.  
She pulled away, with a sob, her breath ragged with passion, the sheer unbridled exhilaration at this revelation, of the titanic strength of their bond.  
Brushing away his tears with her fingers tips, placing a dozen little kisses to his mouth, as the spell finally shattered. Gradually the raucous laughter, chattering voices, music and clamour mushroomed back into existence around them, the volume suddenly increased.  
Cries of jubilation, strains of Flower of Scotland, the clink of bottle on glass, all within earshot again.  
Surrounding them. Hauling them back.  
Jamie clapping Malcolm hard between the shoulder blades, making a crude comment,  
"Jesus Christ, you two, get a fucking room!"  
Just one more second before they rejoined the rest of the world again, a last tremulous fleeting moment of disconnected bliss. Inabsentia. Detached from all reality except that of each other.  
Out of his mind hard, and still he didn't give a fiddlers fuck!  
"I want you Sam, so badly."  
Sam brought her mouth close to his left ear.  
"I love you Malcolm Tucker! Happy New Year!"


End file.
